


Be Gentle With Me, Cougar!

by wolfinthethorns



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Losers (2010)
Genre: Brotp, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Signal to Noise 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3459635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfinthethorns/pseuds/wolfinthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen gets injured on a hostage extraction mission and needs patching up in the field. Cougar is the team's medic, as well as sniper. Banter ensues. </p>
<p>Set in the same Losers/MCU cross-over 'verse as Signal To Noise, but pre- the Bolivia incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Gentle With Me, Cougar!

_ 2009, Afghan Highlands, Ten Rings compound _

 

Levelling his semiautomatic against what may lie on the other side, Jensen kicked open the flimsy wooden door in the grimy wall. Swiftly but cautiously he stepped inside, surveying the room - a store room, deserted. He lowered his weapon and sighed with annoyance, and called Clay on comms.

“Clay, this is Jensen, I’ve completed a sweep of the Northern sector of the compound, and it’s all stores. Deserted. Over.”

_ “What’s the status on the hostages?” _ Clay’s voice crackled in his earpiece.

“The aid workers have been found. Terrified but unharmed. Cougar and Pooch are preparing them for extraction.”

_ “And Yinsen?” _

“No sign of him, sir. Looks like our princess has been in another castle all along.”

_ “Did you just…” _

At which point Jensen’s attention became entirely focused on the the very angry Afghani who had just leaped screaming from behind a stack of crates, swinging his AK-47 like a club. Jensen dodged, but the but of the riffle clipped his elbow, knocking his own firearm from his hand. He swore, adopted a defensive posture, and swore again when he realised that to get to the door he’d have to get through Mr Angry. His opponent was still screaming and swinging, blind with rage; Jensen dodged and weaved, trying to close distance inside the range of the weapon, to land a punch. On comms, he could hear Clay yelling  _ Jensen! Report! Do you copy? _ Then the Afghan turned the rifle to reveal a wicked sharp bayonette the barrel, and that changed the game entirely. Throwing himself to the outside of the circle of attack, he made a grab for the other man’s leading arm to control it. There was a tussle, he he managed to land a good punch to the guts, but that victory was short lived as, somehow the bayonette slipped in through the left arm hole of his bulletproof vest, slicing into his chest. Jensen cried out at the sharp, burning pain, but managed to lock his arm under attacker’s, grab his shirt, and slam him back and away from him into a stack of sacks. And then Mr Angry’s head exploded, his body slumping and slipping out of his grip. He grabbed the AK to support it, the blade still wedged between the vest and his chest.

 

Cougar stood in the doorway, rifle still raised; he swept the room before swinging his weapon over his shoulder and going over to Jensen.

“Thanks, Cougs, I owe you a cold one.” Jensen laughed, then gasped as the movement made the blade cut deeper into him. Cougar shook his head, supported the butt of the AK, and surveyed the situation. There was a lot of blood, that was to be expected, and it wasn’t all Jensen’s anyway, but it made it hard to assess the seriousness of the wound from here. Jensen was panting slightly, but his breathing seemed otherwise normal. 

“Stings like a bitch, but I don’t think it’s deep,” said Jensen, seeming to read his mind, “and I’m pretty sure the point’s not sticking in me, so I don’t think there’s risk of puncturing anything.”

Cougar nodded, his main concern now was taking the weight of the rifle off the wound, and stemming the bleeding. He examined the weapon briefly, the safety seemed to have been deliberately disabled; great, that made things even more interesting. The fact that Jensen’s assailant hadn’t just shot him suggested that the ammo clip was empty, but he didn’t want to risk it. Carefully as he could, he tried to unclip the bayonette from the barrel. Jensen grimaced, gritting his teeth as the blade shifted again. It was well and truly wedged on. His comms earpiece crackled,  _ “Cougar, this is Clay, extraction is imminent, do you copy?” _

“Coming, boss.”

_ “And have you found Jensen?” _

“Got him, messy but he’ll live.”

Cougar looked at Jensen apologetically, “Ok, we need to vamos. I’m gonna loosen your vest, then I want you to hold the arm as open as you can while I slide this thing out. It’s probably gonna hurt, sorry about that.”

Jensen nodded, “Eh, like you say, I’ll live.”

Cougar loosened the side adjustors of the vest, and took hold of the weapon, and, as Jensen made space for it to move, carefully pulled the blade out. Jensen yelled as it moved. Now there was definitely a lot of blood; he pulled the keffiyeh from his neck and shoved it into the arm hole of Jensen’s vest, over the injury, to stem the flow. Pulling Jensen’s arm around his shoulder, Cougar put an arm around his waist to support him, put pressure on the wound with his other hand, and the two of them made a dash for the extraction site.

 

As the chopper took off, the pilot said “Settle in, fellas, we’ve got a four hour flight back to base camp. Your boy back there ain’t gonna die on us, is he?” Jensen had been cheerfully regaling the others with the details of going hand to hand, so no, Cougar was pretty sure he wasn’t about to die. Well, not unless Roque lost patience with him, anyway. Still, Jensen was looking a little green around the gills, there was a stocked medical kit to hand, and there was hours to kill, so it made sense to get the big idiot patched up sooner than later. He crouched down in front of Jensen and gently smacked him on the knee to get his attention.

“Ok,  _ catinflas _ , let’s see the mess you’ve made of yourself.”

Getting Jensen out of the flak vest took a little effort, raising his left arm was clearly very painful, but they managed it with minimal whining. The keffiyeh was sticky with blood when Cougar pulled it away; through the rip in Jensen’s t-shirt he could see that the wound, while not serious, was jagged and messy and going to need stitching. Cougar prepared his medical supplies: a basin of sterile water, gauze, and antiseptic wipes to clean up, a syringe and vial of local anaesthetic, and a needle and suture. The t-shirt itself was well and truly adhered to Jensen’s skin with blood and sweat, and given the fuss with the vest, trying to remove it over his head was not going to happen. Cougar pulled some EMT shears from the med kit, and started to cut the fabric.

“Y’know, I always dreamed that if someone was holding me down and cutting my t-shirt off, it would be a beautiful woman.” smirked Jensen, mock wistfully. Cougar gave him a withering look, and continued removing the shirt, wetting the material around the wound to unstick it. He pulled on some gloves and started to clean up around the injury. 

“Be gentle with me, Cougar, this is my first time… being stitched up in the field,” Jensen winced as the antiseptic stung, “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Yep.” Cougar prepped the syringe of anaesthetic.

“Something something little prick?” 

Cougar paused, and looked Jensen in the eye, “Would you rather I didn’t use it?”

Jensen looked genuinely worried for a moment, “No, no, please do.”

“Shut up then.”

Pooch leaned over, “Pro tip, Jay, don’t piss off the medic.”

 

It was an awkward wound to stitch, not helped by the fact that Jensen was a fidget. He’d also not shut up either, and was rabbiting away about some nonsense or other that Cougar wasn’t really listening too. 

“Hey Cougs, are you embroidering a name tag on there or what?” Jensen was looking down at him, trying to see what was going on.

“Yeah, well, it would be quicker and easier if you weren’t so damn hairy.”

Jensen snorted and raised an eyebrow, “Sorry, cowboy, I ain’t gonna  _ shave _ just to make your life easier.”

Cougar took a deep, calming breath. He’d left himself open to that one, but still. He gave Jensen a, pleading, long-suffering look, “Please. Just stop.”

“I second that,” called Roque from the far end of the cabin, “Don’t ask, don’t tell, and don’t make the rest of us reach for the brain bleach.” There was a stifled giggling from the other two men.

 

The cut stitched and dressed, Cougar tossed Jensen a blanket to keep warm, and cleared up the medical supplies. He was tired, and his friend’s constant banter was starting to grate on his nerves. Although he hadn’t really lost all that much blood, Jensen was looking decidedly grey and wobbly. Fortunately, there were candy bars with the med kit for just such situations; Cougar handed one to him, “Eat.”

“Is this for being a brave little soldier?” Jensen grinned up at him.

“It’s because you’re in mild shock and the sugar will help.”

“And because I’m a brave little soldier?”

Cougar stood in front of Jensen, looking down at his wide blue eyes and big daft smile. However much he got on his nerves sometimes, he couldn’t stay mad at this ridiculous, optimistic, cheery, puppy of a man, and he wouldn’t swap his best friend for the world. Cougar smiled and ruffled Jensen’s hair, “Yes, Jake, because you’re a brave little soldier.”

 

An hour later, the sun had set and the cabin was dark. Most of it’s occupants had nodded off, Clay’s snoring still loud against the thrum of the rotors. Though bone weary, Cougar was still awake; he’d never got the hang of sleeping in transit. Jensen was slumped against him, his head on Cougar’s shoulder. Cougar shifted - his arm was going dead - and Jensen stirred.

“Hey Cougs, I never said thank you, did I?” he murmured.

Cougar sighed, “De nada, it’s my job.”

“Yeah, but still, thank you. And thank you for putting up with my bullshit.”

“I like your bullshit,” smiled Cougar, “you make me laugh. I’d be a morbid bastard without you.”

“Aww, Cougs, you’re the best friend a boy could have.”, mumbled Jensen, sleepily.

Cougar laughed silently. This guy. This fuckin’ guy. “Thank you, Jake, now go back to sleep.” But he already was.


End file.
